


Thread Work

by Juulna



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Wings, Darcy Lewis is Tony's Sister, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, M/M, Marvel Trumps Hate 2019, Matchmaking, Meddling Darcy Lewis, POV Multiple, Pretty sure this is the fluffiest thing I've written, Tony-centric, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Wingfic, established stucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juulna/pseuds/Juulna
Summary: Tony’s wings ached so much sometimes that he forgot to hide it. He forgot to hide. To conceal himself.Sometimes he wondered if he needed to anymore, but one look at them and his resolve shored up all over again. He was content with what he had, content with who they were to each other; why be selfish and ask for more? He was already a billionaire, for Chrissakes.But all the money in the world couldn’t remove the pain from his wings. And each time he thought about their hands kneading the musculature of his wings buried beneath the mangled scars and metal, caring for him, chasing the ache away from his body like they did with the pain in his mind, he came one step closer to giving in.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 667
Collections: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019, Marvel Polyship Bingo 2020, Marvel Trumps Hate 2019, Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	Thread Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wiggle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiggle/gifts), [betheflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betheflame/gifts).



> Hiya everyone! This turned out far fluffier and less smuttier than I expected, buuuuut I'm really happy with it. :) This work is not beta'd so any whoopsies and inconsistencies are all my fault.
> 
> This is written for the **Marvel Trumps Hate 2019 auction** for Wiggle (Rise) and betheflame, for the prompt: “Our basic idea is WingFic with someone established and the other one either pining or meddling or both. They must have wings, and soulmark-like markings on their wings, and it should be commonly accepted that these markings indicate compatibility.”
> 
>  **This fic also fills the:**  
>  Marvel Polyship Bingo 2020 card: Disability  
> Tony Stark Bingo 2020 card: Reverse Soulmates, T5 (card: 3124)  
> Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019 card: Movie Night
> 
> \--  
>  **My wing headcanons for the team and others are as follows (even if they don't make an appearance):**  
>  Steve: [Blue Jay](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9e/f6/5e/9ef65e16dd4c6e31d27d32714a5c710d.jpg)  
> Bucky: [Steller’s Jay ](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/bf/c4/8b/bfc48bd2cce162b337c918e1933757dc.jpg)(formerly) and [Harpy Eagle](https://bloximages.chicago2.vip.townnews.com/idahopress.com/content/tncms/assets/v3/editorial/a/66/a6675a91-6a8d-57fc-b400-2beee5bf34e1/4e92345c6d0e9.image.jpg) (current)  
> Tony: [Cardinal](https://www.mindenpictures.com/cache/pcache2/00563503.jpg)  
> Darcy: [Mandarin Duck](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b0/7a/52/b07a52875b7cad3a9193a58fcc0efe6b.jpg)  
> Nat: [Raven](https://www.mtpr.org/sites/kufm/files/styles/medium/public/201804/Raven_PD.jpg)  
> Clint: [Hoopoe](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2c/0c/1d/2c0c1dc77a9da53719a681ed1c108d69.jpg) (okay, this bird is frickin' hilarious, go check it out!)  
> Pepper: [Northern Oriole](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EUkAgbaUYAE7nus.jpg)  
> Rhodey: [Great Blue Heron](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b8/d7/f8/b8d7f89e81c1afa54995efd8a7ad3fd2.jpg)  
> Bruce: [Indian Green Parrot](https://www.itl.cat/pngfile/big/203-2038968_green-parrot-hd-pictures-gallery-indian-green-parrot.jpg) (they look SO angry wow, haha)  
> Hulk: None  
> Thor: None
> 
>  **Parts of wings:** [here](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/05/88/e1/0588e10faf28b9e439fb797e3ba5bc24.jpg) & [here](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a3/b9/8d/a3b98dde1c7ff63c4ad14327cb3bd438.jpg)
> 
> The threading practice I write about is from my brain, though I'm sure I pulled it from different places of subconscious inspiration. I do not in any way claim that the physics would work. :P

Tony’s wings ached so much sometimes that he forgot to hide it. He forgot to  _ hide _ . To conceal himself. 

Sometimes he wondered if he needed to anymore, but one look at  _ them _ and his resolve shored up all over again. He was content with what he had, content with who they were to each other; why be selfish and ask for more? He was already a billionaire, for Chrissakes. 

But all the money in the world couldn’t remove the pain from his wings. And each time he thought about their hands kneading the musculature of his wings buried beneath the mangled scars and metal, caring for him, chasing the ache away from his body like they did with the pain in his mind, he came one step closer to giving in. 

To letting them  _ see _ . 

It wasn’t that he hid himself from them—they were his best friends, honestly, taking him everywhere, inviting him out or in, talking, Avenging, and even fighting when Steve or Tony couldn’t get their heads out of their asses—but it was one thing showing yourself to someone… it was another showing  _ all _ of yourself to someone.

Suffice it to say, Tony had trust issues.

For example, his own mother had never told him she’d had a child just before their deaths. That had come as quite the surprise when their at-the-time new assistant scientist wrangler had gotten her bloodwork done as part of being a member of the Avengers family. It was important, DNA was, but it had revealed one of the most important secrets about Tony’s life. A secret he didn’t even know he had. How his mother had managed that was beyond him, but then again, Howard had never ceased to put his all into his work, so it wasn’t really  _ that _ surprising he’d missed it. Still.

Darcy had fit in swimmingly, though. Perfectly. She took the revelation in stride, and though she chose not to really go around telling people about it, she said she might someday. For now, she was still plain old (anything but) Darcy Lewis.

His kid half-sister (and now he couldn’t help but see Maria in everything she did).

Also now the bane of his life, apparently.

Because, see, she was one of those people who believed in wing mark compatibility. And he  _ did not _ . Very much did not. Even before Afghanistan, even before they’d torn half his wing markings away along with the feathers which bore them. It was such bullshit ‘science’ and mysticism, Tony had zero clue how the human race had actually survived to this point, believing all that they had over the millennia. 

All those tales of ‘constellations guiding you to your soulmate’ as if there weren’t hundreds of different wing types and a magnitude more ways you could position your wings, all of which changed the shape of the marks. He’d had enough people try to stalk him because,  _ apparently _ , they thought their wing marks matched. Even though every single one of them thought the marks represented a different constellation, as if  _ that _ wasn’t proof enough right there in the absolute  _ idiocy _ of the concept. He’d tried to be polite, tried to keep the disdain from his voice and words, but he always made it clear, privately and publicly, that he thought it was… incorrect.

He’d almost been glad to lose half his right wing in Afghanistan. 

Because now? No one who wasn’t family would even look at his wings, let alone try to guess what full constellation his wings had once borne. And even then, most people let  _ him _ carry the conversation. 

All. Except.  _ Darcy _ .

Part of him wanted to throttle the young woman, but another part of him was sort of deeply amused by it all. Because she didn’t give up, that was for sure. 

Suffice it to say, she was the only one who he tolerated it from. Her and Pepper, but Pepper only ever discussed it casually, in the context of other people, and he never minded listening to anything Pepper had to say.

Darcy, though…? Quite the different story. 

Oh, she’d learned to dance around his opinions quickly enough, had learned when not to push, but also when  _ to _ push. 

And, unfortunately, she had caught on nearly immediately to his desperate, hopeless love for Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

Fucking hell.

* * *

Avengers movie night had become a well-known thing by the time Darcy had arrived in Tony’s life, and she relished in the fact that she, a nobody— _ well _ … her brain tried to butt in—was now allowed into such a wonderful private ritual still made her feel tingly, warm, and happy all over.

By the time the fourth movie night arrived, she was one of the crowd, part of the family, and the tingly, warm, happy feeling had settled into a low simmer. Her brain was whirling from all the changes in her life, but things had slowed down a little in the last week and a bit, thank god. 

They were about to start watching Disney’s  _ Robin Hood _ when Steve strode (back) in with Tony slung right over his shoulder and right wing. Bucky just  _ laughed _ at the sight and patted the middle of the couch right beside him, and Steve deposited Tony right there, practically into Bucky’s lap, wow, before sitting on her brother’s (jesus, that was  _ weird _ to even think the word, still) left side. He was nearly sandwiched between the two on the low couch, their wings spread behind them and mingling together, though Darcy was pretty sure she was the only one who had the right angle to see  _ that _ . 

She raised one dark eyebrow, things starting to slot into place, then realized that no one else had reacted to the theatrics with anything more than a small smile. As if this was normal for them, as if it were expected, as if it was a thing that happened on the regular that everyone knew about. No one batted an eye, no one commented, and the lack of jokes over the incident between the ‘we’re just friends, Darcy’ cemented it all together.

Oh, that was just  _ sad _ .

Darcy moved back to sit on the loveseat beside Natasha, having got what she was looking for from the kitchen, and nodded in the three men’s direction before asking quietly, “Seriously?”

Natasha, almost supernaturally aware of what anyone was doing at any one time and able to read body language like it was the top line of an ophthalmologist’s eyesight chart, knew exactly what Darcy was referring to. She nodded and rolled her eyes slightly as she curled her legs up under her. “Mhm, been going on for ages,” she answered Darcy quietly. “They’re all too stupid to say something.”

Darcy ended up watching very little of the movie that night, her eyes fixed on the three men on the couch perpendicular to hers. She catalogued all their movements, their casual touches that never went  _ too _ far, the happiness on their faces, the helpless love she swore flashed across Tony’s expression more than once, even if fleetingly. But there was another expression there, one she’d seen only too often around the edges of Grammy Lewis’ eyes when her body ached worse than usual. She’d never seen it once on Tony but, even though she’d only been there just over a month, she knew that it was an expression he would seldom show.

It was too vulnerable, too open, too  _ real _ , and Tony was a man who hid behind brashness and bluster and deliberately-grandiose gestures that distracted with one hand while the other was hiding his heart.

Even if the ones he was hiding his heart from were the least likely to hurt it—at least not on purpose.

Darcy leaned into the arm of the couch on her left, watching surreptitiously to see what was hurting him, but the moment had already passed.

She glanced at Natasha, who caught her eyes and nodded again with a sad smile.

Yeah, her eyes said, and then fluttered her full-black wings just the slightest.

Oh.

Oh,  _ Tony. _

* * *

So. She had two objectives. Two  _ massive _ tasks she’d assigned to herself out of some masochistic familial sense of duty. To be fair, it was a task she was more than happy to assign herself, because having family again,  _ living family _ , was amazing. And she wanted to make him happy, not just because he was family, but because the dumb genius deserved it.

So she watched and waited—at least as much as her typically impatient self could handle, but this was  _ important _ —and observed everything she could about Tony. She’d been taking him up on his offer of wine or coffee or milkshakes nearly every day, though always at the Tower, typically in his workshop or another more private location so that she could ask him, well,  _ anything _ . To get to learn more about her quite literally long-lost older half-brother.

If she’d been a child, she knew, she would very likely have worshipped an older brother like him (though maybe not his younger party-hardy self, because  _ wow _ , Tony, really?). Because he had so many reasons to be bitter, so many to be scared, so many to give into the nightmares he’d experienced, and yet he was so  _ strong _ .

He was also hopelessly in love with two men who he was sure would never want him, especially because they were already in a relationship—and in his eyes, them having match-marked wings just made them that much more unattainable.

Of course, Tony never said so in those exact words. Or, really, in anything approaching those words, but between Natasha’s observations (she was clear to state she only shared because she cared about Tony, not because she went and shared everyone’s secrets all the time, now wasn’t  _ that _ a scary thought) and Darcy’s, and the subtext to almost anything Tony said where those two were concerned, she was able to read him like a damn book.

Pretty much everyone part of their inner circle (it warmed her heart each time she realized she was part of that group now, even if new to it) saw and knew it, too, but for various reasons had obviously chosen not to meddle.

Darcy and Natasha decided  _ to _ meddle, instead.

But slowly, quietly, and subtly.

At least, to start.

So she had two objectives: (1) Help Tony with his pain, and (2) Help him realize that Steve and Bucky loved him back.

May as well play one off the other.

* * *

“My grandma had Rheumatoid Arthritis,” Darcy said, voice coming out of seemingly nowhere with that non-sequitur. 

Tony whirled around, barely keeping himself from falling with a quick flutter and brace from his wings. It hurt, but he’d had much practice at keeping the expression off his face. Even so, he had a bad feeling about this encounter, considering what she’d said.

His kid sister had a good eye, he knew, and he wasn’t one to play dumb. Still, he was stubborn.

Sister. It was still weird, but the sight of her finishing her short flight up to and settling in the rafters of his multi-story workshop was already becoming a welcome sight. Her beautifully-colored rust orange and bright blue wings, much like a Mandarin duck’s wings, white, grey, and black accents and all, were beautiful in their full sweep, and she settled onto one of the wider beams that just so happened to be Tony’s favorite spot, too.

“Okay?” Tony didn’t really know how to answer that statement, didn’t know where she was going with it, but she chose instead to change the subject when they heard familiar foot treads cutting across the security hall towards the workshop doors. Darcy smiled at him in an impish way, then greeted the two newcomers.

“Steve, Bucky! Hi! I just got here so he hasn’t yet had time to slip back into ignoring everyone under the sun, so now’s your chance to go to that ballgame Tony has standing tickets for. Did you know he had standing tickets? I think that’s  _ awesome _ . But also a super rich thing, Tony, I mean really. Come on.”

Tony quietly facepalmed as Steve and Bucky turned towards him. “Tony, why didn’t you tell us those were  _ your _ seats?” Bucky asked.

“Because…” he started.

“You should’ve come  _ with  _ us!” Steve added, then continued in a highly amused tone. “So instead of you letting us think you were the one being extra sweet, all this time we should’ve been thanking you!”

“ _ And _ dragging you out with us,” Bucky smirked.

“Thought you could use some alone time, is all,” Tony mumbled. He couldn’t help but add, “You spend so much time with me as it is, and I’m not the biggest baseball fan, so… um…”

Darcy cackled with glee from the rafters as Tony was yanked out of the workshop.

* * *

Darcy changed her mind about her original plan of attack. She couldn’t exactly tell the guys that their best-friend-slash-target was suffering some type of pain to the wings, despite her ultimate goal requiring them to eventually know. Darcy well knew how confidences and secrets were supposed to work, especially when said person lived so close to the public spotlight.

_ Well _ , the lot of them did, really, now, including her. Thankfully not much, and  _ nothing _ yet about her unusual familial connection (she’d probably have to tell the world  _ someday _ ), but Tony, followed by Steve, had the most attention heaped on them. More than any other celebrity she’d ever even heard of, except, hm, maybe Elvis or The Beatles, she supposed.

Anyway. Off topic, that.

So she couldn’t  _ tell _ them, especially because she didn’t really know what it was anyway. She’d thought about asking him directly, then scratched that completely. Then she’d thought about asking Pepper, but no, that wouldn’t be right either. She’d thought about saying nothing, knowing it was incredibly rude to ask anyone chronically ill or in chronic pain, or even to hint that you knew something was up if they were trying to hide it. Everyone had their reasons.

So… really, actually, she didn’t need to know what it was he was suffering from, whether Rheumatoid or other forms of autoimmune arthritis, regular arthritis, Fibromyalgia, pinched nerves, or whether it was permanent tissue damage or improperly healed bones from his time in Afghanistan.

He’d wanted her to feel comfortable coming into his life after so many years of not knowing who her mother was, and so he’d answered all her questions, and told her more besides, but she was absolutely shocked that he had opened up, all on his own, so much earlier than she expected—or at  _ all _ , really—about Afghanistan and what had happened to him there. She knew he hadn’t told her everything, but she didn’t  _ need _ to know. Despite being family (and even then it wouldn’t grant someone access to another’s deepest fears and sorrows and experiences), he’d trusted her more than expected with the knowledge he  _ did _ grant her.

She was honored, flattered, and happy.

Nope. She really didn’t need to know. He could tell her if he wanted to.

But everyone could use a good wing massage every once in a while.

* * *

The next day, Steve and Bucky entered the common room to the sight of Natasha and Darcy braiding lightweight thread into Tony’s wings. It wasn’t an uncommon practice, especially among the younger crowds, men and women both, but they’d never seen Tony wearing adornment on his cardinal-red wings. Bucky stilled Steve with a hand to the forearm, and they both stilled so that they could observe from the semi-obscured entranceway. It helped that their backs were all turned to him and Steve, though Bucky was sure that Natasha knew they were there, despite the music being piped—at  _ normal _ levels, thank god, he didn’t want to have to regrow his ear drums again—through the speakers.

“—know you don’t believe in all that crap, Tony,” Darcy was saying, “but you can certainly humor me.”

“ _ Sigh _ .” Even with just one word, Bucky could hear the fondness under the false cover of resignation, and he and Steve shared a smile as they relaxed against the walls of the entranceway. “Anything for you, dear sister of mine.” And theeeeere was the melodramatic Tony they loved.

Darcy had never once stopped her threading, braiding, and weaving, but she patted him on the head with her hand a couple seconds later, once she had one free. Steve barely smothered his laughter, and Bucky felt warmth suffusing his very bones at the sound and sight of two men he very much loved. They settled in to watch, but within a few moments Natasha got a call. She shut her phone and murmured to Darcy and Tony that she had to go, and then eyed Steve and Bucky with zero surprise whatsoever—not that she’d ever show it if she  _ were _ surprised—as she walked towards them without a word.

Just when she was finally passed them, she suggested—though nothing was ever a suggestion with her— “Go in and help, you lumbering dorks,” with a small smile, and Steve nearly immediately started to stride forward, as if all that had stood between him and Tony were an invitation.

Bucky nodded to Natasha and followed his mate.

“Hey Tony, Darcy,” Steve greeted the two siblings, and Bucky was really glad he’d become a ‘roll with it’ kind of guy, at least as Tony liked to call him, because  _ that _ revelation had sure been a weird one. But not a one of them doubted it when they saw the two side by side. In this case, Darcy and Tony had both twisted around in an identical manner, their heads looking up at them before Darcy grinned. Tony smiled softly, and Bucky was pleased to note that he didn’t draw either of his beautiful red wings back in towards his body as he once might have done. The right was draped over the back of the half back on the couch, and his left was half-held up, half-draped towards the ground, wingtips trailing, so that Darcy could work her magic.

Because it  _ was _ magic. Though she hadn’t done very much, the bright blue, sharp white, and deep black threads and beads were starting to take on a lovely pattern. Of what, he wasn’t quite sure, but before he had time to contemplate it further, Darcy threw him and Steve both for a loop.

* * *

“C’mere Steve, I need a second pair of hands. Usually it’s a group of us doing this, not just one pair of hands,” Darcy directed.

Steve took a step towards the couch beside her before he stopped, glancing at Tony’s face for permission. The man looked like a deer in the headlights, so Steve backed up a step and was about to say he’d pass when—

“Sure,” Tony said, the apprehension not fully gone but mostly replaced with a sunny, honest, and genuine smile. It was a small smile, and just one word, but Steve took it as true permission with his own small smile given in return. Steve recognized the honor he’d been given, because Tony allowed so few people to touch his wings, and the closest he and Bucky ever got was a casual touch here and there, and when they mingled their feathers together on the couch. He’d savored each one of those instances, and now he would hopefully be able to have  _ more _ .

He wasn’t typically selfish, but with his people, his  _ hearts _ , he was one of the most selfish beings alive.

And that was a-okay with him.

Darcy got right into it, but he saw the smile hiding behind her long locks of dark brown hair. She was  _ pleased _ . “Grab that bobbin over there, the one with the blue. Yeah, that one, thanks.” 

But instead of asking him to hold the bobbin, she had him take over her place. Steve settled onto the couch, wings tucked tight against him, and gently took hold of the threads she was passing to him in the process.

Darcy took the time to explain and demonstrate after she’d tucked the bobbin of blue thread onto a spool she passed to Bucky to hold, just behind them. She outlined the broad pattern first, then helped him learn—he caught on very quickly—the different threading techniques, which included four different braids, six knots, and three weaves. One of the knots went specifically with a bead and formed a gorgeous sort of lattice work along the outer and inner vanes, designed to sparkle  _ just so _ and not to get in the way of flight movement. 

She had Tony demonstrate, and Tony’s left wing snapped out evenly and cleanly,  _ powerfully _ and  _ beautifully _ , with every motion of the wing shifting the lattice work pattern into something different. Much like how the marks on his wings did so. How any position your wing could take would change the constellation to any number of possibilities, known or unknown to Earthen skies.

He’d never had much use for that, but he didn’t begrudge those who loved the appeal and romance and Divinity of it all. The idea that someone out there, somewhere,  _ any _ where, was perfect for you. That the Cosmos had created you a match who would love and adore you.

But Steve had all that and more right in front of him, and he hadn’t needed any marks to show him that. Just plain old time and good fortune.

Still though, the thread work was something  _ gorgeous _ to witness up close and personal. It was more complex than he’d ever really noticed, delicate and careful not to get in the way of flight movements by wrapping around and under in specific spots, but his lack of notice didn’t really mean much since he had been focused on, well,  _ other _ people’s wings. He’d had no time for anything else. No  _ eyes _ for anyone else. He knew that already, and yet his face felt heated all the same.

Tony had relaxed into the quiet motions of the threading, his head listing forward and his body relaxing into a sort of slump that at least didn’t hinder Steve and Darcy’s work. The feel of Tony’s feathers over and around his hands, the texture of them and the smoothness all at once… Lord have mercy on him, it was amazing, and Tony had given him  _ permission _ . Permission to touch beyond the typical casual touches they’d been sharing.

But before he did something  _ completely _ embarrassing beside Tony’s younger sister, he focused back in on the patterns in front of him, his eyes following the lines of the criss-cross hatching, the trailing ends of only a couple inches long that were weighted down the barest amount with beads, just enough to sway in a breeze or flutter in flight.

It was gorgeous.

_ Tony _ was gorgeous.

Jesus, they were in so much trouble if they couldn’t work up the courage to ask Tony out, and soon.

* * *

During that night’s movie, Darcy had to hide her sheer happiness at the sight of Bucky running his hands freely across Tony’s left wing, though the right was still settled on the floor behind them, out of reach.

It was a start.

_ Hot damn _ .

* * *

Three days later, she found Steve reading a book on threading, and had to run off before she bust a gut with laughter. Happy laughter, but it was still hilarious to see Captain America read a threading book aimed at little  _ girls _ . Gender stereotypes were bad, yes, but some things just died hard.

And it was cute. Like,  _ super _ cute.

* * *

That night, Bucky asked her for help on how to fix the broken lattice that Tony had  _ of course _ ripped apart in a test run of a new mark of armor. 

She opened her mouth, about to answer with the simplest way to do just that, but instead chose to say, “You gotta start from the beginning.”

Bucky looked a little suspicious, and she watched the cogs turn behind his eyes. He  _ knew _ what she was doing, she determined as soon as he got that little glint in his eye, and his pleased answer confirmed it.

Bucky hummed softly. “Hmm, yeah. Stevie and I can do that for sure. We’d be happy to.”

“I’m sure you will be, big boy! Use protection!” she shouted down the hall, and then shrieked with laughter when a pillow was grabbed and tossed with (non-)deadly accuracy right at her head. Her face full of hair, completely messy and probably now needing a giant dose of conditioner, she didn’t care one bit. She was so  _ pleased _ .

* * *

The new lattice was beautiful. Even prettier than her own work, and she’d been practicing at it for nearly a decade—but hey, these men were super soldiers with enhanced brains, she was just little ol’ human Darcy, and also didn’t quite love Tony the same that they obviously did. Because they had put  _ all _ of their heart into this construction, to the point that it had become a media sensation. A Gen X superhero, knocking a Millennial and Gen Z fashion statement out of the park? Fantastic; she didn’t blame the world for going  _ ga ga _ over it.

But what caught her eye was that the pattern mirrored itself… on Tony’s right wing as well. That was just…  _ huge _ . The lattice was slightly adjusted for the shape and material of the metal feathers, but the differences made the design that much more compelling.

And yet, still, she noticed his pain in the moments he was least able to shield himself, and despite casual touches along and over Tony’s wings, she could tell the men didn’t want to assume anything, and Tony didn’t want to hope too much. That they hadn’t discovered or seen the pain, or didn’t want to let on they know, perhaps… and that Tony hadn’t told them, himself.

Seriously, dudes, come _ on _ .

* * *

Her chance came three days later at the end of movie night, when she noticed Tony draped almost entirely across Steve’s lap and chest, and Bucky running his fingers gently over Tony’s right repaired wing, fingers  _ ever _ so careful. When most of the rest of the Avengers and family had gone, she motioned for the two of them to stay quiet and still as she approached. Their soft smiles were so lovely to see, though they did dim a little as she got closer. She could understand not wanting to share that special feeling; it was absolutely okay.

“Push in here,” she whispered, pointing to the large arch of muscle over Tony’s left humerus, the part that was closest to his back. “You know the metal strut?” Bucky nodded and brought his hand up slowly until it came to rest over the indicated spot. “He’s too tense, surely you’ve spotted it.” Steve nodded, eyes wide but attentive as he watched Bucky put light pressure all the way down the strut at the spot closest to Tony’s spine.

Within the first handful of movements, Tony melted all the more into Steve, as if all his bones had suddenly been removed with Skele-gro. Or like Tony was made of metal and had suddenly been heated in a forge, everything turning liquid. It was a cross between absolutely ridiculous and completely endearing, though it rather started to turn indecent as Tony made pleased notes and WELP that was her cue to get out of there.

* * *

Tony acted like nothing was different the next morning, and when Darcy asked JARVIS if he’d spent the night in the workshop, he confirmed it.

Seriously?

She was  _ sure _ that they’d have at least cuddled with him all night or something. Sat on him. Uh, in the non-sexy manner, but maybe the sexy manner too, she supposed, as that was the ultimate goal, but still. Ew.

With a grimace, she went to go spook some super soldiers with the sneaky skills Nat had been teaching her.

* * *

“Soooo,” Darcy began, popping up behind him and Steve on the couch and sticking her face between the both of their heads as they were watching tv. “When’re you two gonna make a move on my brother, huh? Cause lemme tell you, all this sexual tension is getting  _ weird _ . It’d be great if it weren’t my  _ brother _ though, so, y’know, maybe you can finally kiss him and get to the  _ resolved _ sexual tension part of this whole thing. Right? Right.”

And with that, she gave a little kick with her legs and wings and jumped towards the upper floor’s inner balcony.

Steve turned his head slowly towards him, and the expression on his face left Bucky unable to hold in his laughter. 

* * *

But before the week was over, someone had gone and ruined it. Well, she thought with a sigh as she and Pepper conducted damage control, it wasn’t really the worst snit she’d heard about via Pepper and Rhodey’s gossip. Still, Tony had run off to South Carolina (she had zero clue why, and even Pepper and Rhodey were a little lost on that one until they remembered that Aunt Peggy had been moved to a beautiful home there, just last summer) and the guys looked honestly  _ lost _ and super confused in equal measure. But there was also sadness and understanding, because they’d heard the same rants from Tony before, many a time.

The same rants they’d walked in on him giving, and Darcy knew they’d heard nearly the whole thing, but it was the last few lines, the ones that Tony had stuttered to a stop on with wide eyes, realizing what he’d said, and that he’d said it for more than just Pepper and Darcy to hear:

“If no one out there thought there was a snowball’s chance in hell for me with them before this, and now suddenly everyone’s fawning over the idea of us, the ‘past meets the present meets the future’ bullshit everyone is going on and on about, making up cute names for us, all because of fucking  _ wing marks _ , then I don’t. fucking.  _ want it! _ I want them to love me for  _ me _ , damn it, not because the cosmos or God or what the fuck ever thinks that we’re destined to be through some bullshit that is about as credible as seances! I don’t want the world to think I’m only deserving because of  _ this _ , in fact it’s far more preferable to be thought of as undeserving even still, despite all this, like some of those people are saying. I’m cool with that, thanks, but not, not… I don’t want them to think they  _ have _ to love me. I don’t… I  _ don’t _ .  _ They’re _ the ones who’re marked—and I only have half of mine, if they’re  _ even a real thing _ . I’m used to the internet being a cesspit of people who don’t think twice before they speak, but who the  _ fuck _ —”

And that was when he’d noticed the men standing in the workshop doorway, stock still and shocked. But before he could notice the sadness and depth of love swirling up into their eyes, Tony turned completely white and bolted.

Unfortunately, when Iron Man bolted, very few could keep up.

* * *

Bucky approached Tony alone days after Tony had returned to the Tower with a stern order from Peggy to listen with an open heart and open mind. He had… sort of hidden himself, but he’d come back. He just hadn’t wanted to be the first to speak, awful as that might make him. He needed to apologize, too, but he just… he didn’t know how, yet, or even for exactly  _ what _ . But when he figured it out… yeah, he owed it to them.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Bucky started slowly, almost hesitantly, and Tony’s will and desire to run away vanished in an instant. He started to tinker with his wing’s frame again, watching Bucky out of the corner of his eye. Bucky’s pause lengthened, as if making sure Tony wasn’t going to run away. Tony’s lips twitched.

“Back before… before the fall, my marks didn’t even remotely match Steve’s.” Tony stilled, then forced himself into casual movements as Bucky continued, voice cracking just a little. “There’s no documentation of it, nothing from the war and certainly nothing from before. Marks weren’t written down on files or photographed for military personnel until, what, the Vietnam War? Yeah. Think I remember Bruce mentioning that. We were raised with the stories, of course, but the mark thing is so much more of a recent, well,  _ invention _ , of a sorts, if I were to ask you to describe it in one word.”

Tony turned his face slightly towards Bucky at that, a little smirk lifting the side of his mouth closest to the man. His hands were still busy with the lightweight screw that was, of course, being a stubborn bastard. Didn’t help he was doing this with born hands over his left shoulder.

Bucky almost took a step forward, but instead pulled himself back to lean on the work table behind him. “Everyone thinks we’re a perfect match-marked pair, the star-crossed lovers reunited. Can’t say I mind it too much, I guess, since that helped tons with the legal defense” he added wryly, but there was still a hint of bitterness beneath the words. And a hint of guilt and shame. 

Tony sucked in a breath to say something, anything, but Bucky rushed on, so he relaxed his shoulders again and listened. 

“But it’s all a lie. I mean, Steve and I being match-marked, not the marks themselves. Who knows, there may be something to it, but Steve and I, we didn’t really care if it was true or not, whether our marks matched or not. We just loved each other, looking beyond the marks. We don’t base our love on them. We never did, and we haven’t started now.” The implication was clear, and Tony had no clue what to say to it. Luckily, Bucky continued, though the topic was certainly not… pleasant.

“When Hydra had me, they cut my wings off to control me.” Bucky said the words with a rough, slow, and quiet voice. The one he always used when he spoke about the time… before. It had taken him a long time to speak about it, but therapy had done wonders for Tony, and it seemed it had for Bucky as well. It was a difficult thing, still, and though Tony had been confided in before as a best friend, this was something… more. Different. Like the way he would speak with Steve, really.

“They would always grow back, but it took months to even be flight-capable at a short distance. But eventually they didn’t need to. By then, well… you know. My wings changed. Whatever it was they were doing to me, whatever it was they injected me with or tinkered on me for, no one really knows, but… yeah, traded my bright blue and grey in for this white and grey.” Bucky shrugged his wing forward slightly, just enough to absently run his fingers through his primaries. “But they were a blank canvas by the time I was allowed to keep them. Not sure if it was because of the trauma, the change, or because of… I don’t know, maybe they got rid of them somehow, wanting their Ghost to remain featureless. They stayed that way until the Soviets came along, and that’s when I got these. 

“Guess they thought it was some sort of sick joke: give the best friend, maybe possibly lover, people were starting to learn by then, of Captain America the man’s wing marks. A joke just for themselves, because it wasn’t like too many people saw me in those days. But they all knew, and there was always this smug look behind their eyes.”

Tony closed his eyes and realized he was crying, rather silently and discretely, but Bucky saw and immediately stepped towards him, trailing his fingers across Tony’s right cheek to catch the tear as Bucky walked around behind him. Tony let go of the screw and strut on his left wing as Bucky’s hands gently took over, taking the screw out and rethreading it with one of the newer ones, made out of an even lighter but stronger metal. They were quiet for long minutes as Bucky worked his way down the only strut in his left wing. The right was the worst of it, and was aching something fierce, so maybe he could ask Bucky to…

Tony groaned softly and dropped his chin onto his chest as Bucky gently dug his fingers into the muscles aching across the breadth of his wing. Bucky let out a happy noise, one of contentment, and Tony was only too glad to let him continue if it made him happy. He just wanted Bucky, and Steve, to be happy. That’s all he wanted in life. Whatever form that happiness took.

Did that mean that he would do anything, including accepting his heart’s desire and opening it to the two men he loved? If that’s what would make him happy?

Maybe—

“They found old photographs of the entire spread of Steve’s wings,” Bucky’s voice cut into Tony’s mini-crisis, “and made it their special project, to work on them while I was in cryo. They had a way to pull them out without upsetting the cryo for my body, and put them back in when they weren’t working on them. Found some way to inject dye into the hollow bones so that it would come out in one place and one place only, each time a feather regrew. No matter how many times I plucked them out in rare moments of remembrance, no matter how often I lost them to their anger or punishments or when sparring or when…  _ out. _

“So this? The marks?” Bucky trailed his fingers over the one’s on Tony’s left, and Tony shivered but didn’t interrupt. “They hold no power over me. And they never have for Steve either. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

And with that, Bucky went quiet, waiting for Tony. But it wasn’t an awkward silence, though the minutes stretched on and on as Tony parsed everything Bucky had said, everything he  _ meant _ , or meant and didn’t say, his mind going a million miles a minute as Bucky’s fingers trailed over the threads braided and wound around his wings in their intricate patterns.

When Tony had finally turned it over and over in his mind and come to a decision—even if he didn’t deserve them, if this was what they wanted, if this is what made them happy… if it made  _ him _ happy—he slowly turned around, giving Bucky a chance to untangle his fingers first. He stood up, and pressed his forehead to Bucky’s chest, wrapping his arms around the man and inhaling the scent that haunted him—hopefully it would haunt him now in new ways.

Tony murmured into Bucky’s shirt, “Let’s go find Steve,” and then leaned back to flash a small smile at Bucky, reassuring the man it was a  _ good _ kind of ‘let’s go find Steve and have a chit-chat’ rather than a bad one. 

* * *

Steve took one look at him when they stepped onto his and Bucky’s floor, and walked forward, smooth and confident, to wrap Tony up in his wings and arms. He dipped his head, tilting Tony’s chin up with one hand braced on his jaw. He hesitated, eyes searching out Tony’s, and Tony quickly realized that Steve was asking for permission. “Yes,” he said without hesitation, and then Steve’s lips slanted over his without wasting another second.

Tony melted into the kiss, and braced one hand on Steve’s hip, his other burying itself into the tertial feathers along Steve’s spine without any seeming input from Tony’s brain. Because his brain was whirling, and he wasn’t sure if he could even put together a coherent thought.

He pulled away with a gasp, desperately needing to breathe but also to speak, finally figuring out what he was sorry for, exactly. “I’m sorry, Steve, Bucky… I’m sorry for doubting you. I just…”

“Shh sweetheart, it’s okay,” Bucky murmured, drawing Tony into his arms and burying his face in Tony’s neck. 

Tony shuddered, but continued, eyes fluttering closed even as he tried to get out the words he needed to say, “I just didn’t think I deserved you. Didn’t think… just didn’t think at all, really. I’m sorry for not thinking.”

“Pretty sure that’s impossible, sweetheart,” Steve murmured before wrapping Tony and Bucky up entirely in the large span of his beautiful blue jay wings. “And even if it weren’t, don’t  _ ever _ apologize for it, let alone for being scared.”

* * *

Okay, Darcy thought,  _ scratch that. _ The only thing worse than seeing her brother  _ not _ get love around the Tower? Was seeing her brother get  _ way _ too much love around the Tower.

“I do  _ not _ need to  _ see _ that! What the hell!” she screamed out of shock.

Their laughter followed her out, though her brother’s sounded exceedingly embarrassed, and Darcy couldn’t help but forgive them.

She was still making Tony buy a whole new living room furniture set, because  _ fuck that _ , that was just  _ not _ something she ever wanted to think of while trying to watch a movie.

Or…

Darcy let one of those playfully evil/mischievous smiles play across her lips as she dove out the main floor’s flight window, keyed to her DNA.

Or maybe she’d tell Tony she wanted the world to finally know about her, her past, and exactly who she was. Still the same ol’ Darcy Lewis, but wonderfully situated to provide a lifetime of ( _ playful _ ) torment to the big brother she’d never had.

**Author's Note:**

> I do so hope you enjoyed! Stay safe, stay sane, and tell someone who needs to hear it that you love them. <3


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